My Qadr

Too late...

Farrah

"What is going on here?" Mr Zayyad asked, standing before us as his eyes held mine in place briefly.

His eyes communicated his concern as he glanced at me, but then turned icy as he looked at the man before me.

"Why have you cornered my assistant this way Mr Mukhtar?" He looked at me with that gaze that pierced at me, reminding me of memories I wanted to get rid of.

I saw the hurt in his eyes as I turned away from him, but I couldn't bring myself to loom his way.

By now, everyone had turned to face their own business, realising there wouldn't be a brawl.

He looked at me for little while, a small smile gracing his lips as I glanced at him briefly, a smile he'd rarely ever had.

I shuddered, trying to shake off the unrelenting flashbacks, grateful when a man announced the slick commencement of the meeting.

****
Sometime into the presentation, I realised it was an architectural project.

I'd had knowledge that Z.B company had an architectural firm under its many branches, but I didn't expect Mr Zayyad to be present for such meetings.

From what I could grasp, there was a project to construct a large number of houses intended for middle to low income families.

Families like mine, my subconscious whispered.

Since the meeting had started, companies had been giving their presentations on the models for the houses they had in mind.

As Mr Zayyad had said to me during the course of the meeting, they'd been told to make the presentations based on their individual understanding of what a middle to low income family needed.

So far, I'd seen houses that had blown her mind, beautiful in every sense of the word, but I honestly couldn't see herself living in those kinds of houses.

They were too large, too.....disconnected.

"What do you think of this theme, Mrs Ahmed" Mr Zayyad muttered quietly, his voice almost too quiet for me to pick up, but I did.

"Sir, honestly I feel like these houses are too extravagant, for a middle to low income family, I think a smaller house, wider courtyard and a less expensive cost would suffice. I can see myself living in that kind of a house" I muttered absentmindedly, the image of my family in that fantasy house hard to get rid of.

When I urned back to look at Mr Zayyad, there was a tender look in his eyes as his eyes remained fixated on a spot on the table, and when he looked up at me, there was this small smile that threatened to make its appearance known.

"That sounds nice, Mrs Ahmed" I wished now, more than anything, for that smile to bloom but Mr Zayyad was back to his usual self, the brief moment discontinued, as he fished for something in his pocket.

After a while, he drew out his phone, fiddling with it for a while before he stretched it to me.

I looked up at him confused, but he just motioned towards the phone, turning away from me to listen to the presentation .

On his phone, was the plan of a bungalow, with a courtyard covered in well mowed grass, a low fence that separated it from the house next to it in such a way that both houses were visible to the other, there was a small car that reminded me of the one my dad had to sell when matters turned rough in a small garage just wide enough to contain two cars.

There wasn't a swimming pool like most of the other presentations had, neither were there fancy decorations on the porch, just a bicycle and some potted plants.